


save tonight (fight the break of dawn)

by AmyDancepantsPeralta



Series: without you, I'm nothing (one shot tumblr prompts) [6]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Nightmares, One Shot, Peraltiago, Set during Crime and Punishment, Tumblr Prompt, little angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-11-02 10:54:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20721347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyDancepantsPeralta/pseuds/AmyDancepantsPeralta
Summary: “I’m so sorry for waking you,” she whispers.One side of his mouth lifts up into an almost convincing smile.  “You didn’t.  I was already awake.”  She waits, knowing by now that sometimes Jake just needs a little more time to find the right words.  Instead, he shrugs.  “Couldn’t sleep.”She can feel a thousand unsaid words hanging above them.





	save tonight (fight the break of dawn)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! Here's a little one-shot from a (way overdue) anon request on Tumblr for the cliche post-prompt: _Jolting awake from a nightmare and being comforted._
> 
> Set the night before Jake's conviction 💔

**save tonight (fight the break of dawn)**

When it all began, Amy’s fortnightly trip to the local library had felt just like all the others.

She had raised her hand in greeting to the librarian as she passed (a woman named Moira, who was not her favourite to be honest - Adriana was far more precise with her book stacking skills), fighting back a blush as she walked past the private study room: aka, the room that she and Jake had occupied for the evening during his six month anniversary surprise for her. Every time she passed it, Amy was reminded of the steamy kisses they had shared that evening (_and okay yes, maybe some other stuff happened, but that was a secret between the two of them and the books in that room, okay?!_). 

Her legs carried her quickly over to the literary classics, knowing that her heart craved the celebrated words of some of her favourite authors, and before long she was breathing in the familiar scent of tales older than time. Then, a noticeable error caused her to take pause. 

For there, in between the Tolstoy and the Tolkien, sat a novel where title was not visible, but the author’s name was - and it _clearly_ started with an F. _Dammit, Moira._ With a shake of her head Amy moved to grab and move the offending item, before she noticed that the author next to this book started with an I. Beside that, an author with a G. Then another G, back to an I, ending inexplicably in an S. And she couldn’t put her finger on it, but there was something about the combination of those letters that filled her with a sense of dread. 

Her fingers dug into the curved spine of the novels, grabbing all six and pulling them away from the shelf, only to discover a brightly coloured map of Florida pasted to the shelf behind. 

_Vandalism in the literary section?_

_What on earth was going on? _

She realised that it was all a dream when the buzzing of a neon sign finally broke through the silence. Swivelling in place, Amy read _Welcome to the Slaughterhouse_, random letters flickering like a stammering heartbeat. Beneath the sign a prized pig, its hooves still covered in slop, paced the library floor. She moved towards it, and it cantered off with an exaggerated squeal. Her head began to shake as the disorientation washed over her. None of this was logical. And this was not the library she knew and loved. 

A scratching feeling in her skin made her look down at her arm, and Amy blinked in confusion at her left hand holding a pen, writing _Flaxton Hill_ all over her other forearm. Her fingers flexed as they dropped the instrument, pen fading into the background before it ever hit the floor. _Yeah_. Definitely a dream. 

The lights above her began to dance before dimming completely, the welcome sign casting a red haze over the room and Amy feels her chest tightening, head shaking again as she’s suddenly overcome with the need to find her way _out of this dream_ before it turns into a nightmare. 

Jake’s voice cuts through the pounding sound of her heartbeat. “_Ames._”

Her hands are still gripping the books she removed from the shelf and she turns to her left, where she thought the sound came from, but he isn’t there. The fluorescent bulbs above her switch from low to high again and she blinks, holding the books against her forehead as she shelters herself from the light, trying desperately to ground herself.

“_Babe._” His voice calls out again, and Amy drops the novels without a second thought, pages falling open at her feet as she twists to the right. Jake’s there, smiling behind the book shelves, his face so perfectly calm that she can feel herself relax, finally safe in the knowledge that _he is here_ \- that whatever this place was, they were in it together.

She realises that this dream is actually a nightmare when she reaches for Jake, arm stretching out across the shelves, fingertips barely touching before the spines of the books turn black, multiples merging into thick lines, dark in colour and metallic in texture as the shelves squeeze closer together, settling with a clang that reverberates across the building. Their hands snatch away from the middle as a bitter coldness fills the air; overhead lights switching off completely - the neon sign turning the room a palpably ominous red, and in a matter of seconds there are thick black bars separating her from the love of her life. 

She runs along the former bookshelves, calling out his name as the bars grow longer, library extending until there is no end in sight, and no matter how hard she tries, she _just. can’t. get to him._

“It’s okay, babe,” he tells her, running along beside her, and she looks at him as though he’s crazy because _it’s not okay_, because _how could it be okay?_, and there are diamonds falling from the ceiling and the strange smell of Blue Rad-Berry slushie taking over her senses and absolutely nothing makes sense anymore. 

He calls her name one last time, and she feels his hand on her shoulder - which is impossible, because _he’s still on the other side of those bars_, and she lets out a gasp, squeezing her eyes shut as everything fades to black.

Her heart is somewhere up in her throat when she opens her eyes again, pushing herself up from the mattress as her lungs fight to regain control in the darkness. She can feel Jake’s hand on her back, warm and comforting, stroking her gently through her (his) old academy shirt, and she times her breaths to match his movement - up and down, in and out. 

His voice, soft and yet so loud in the darkness, is laced with concern. “You okay, Ames?”

Amy turns slightly, chin resting on her shoulder, and she nods, giving him a smile that she’s not sure he can see through the darkness. His eyes shine through the dark, edges crinkling as he smiles back, and she reaches back for his hand, gripping it tightly when it leaves her back. Her palm is clammy, her body still covered in the cold sweat that had washed over her body while she fought her way out of the terror, but he only squeezes harder.

She had been seven years old when the night terrors began. With her parents stepping out for a long overdue date night, her older brothers had been designated in charge for the evening, and had promptly set up a horror movie in the basement. Relegating her to her bedroom, with the declaration that she was Too Young to be watching such movies, both Miguel and Tony had been naive enough to believe that their younger sister would stay in her room like her brothers. For even then, Amy Santiago wasn’t interested in somebody else telling her what she could and could not see. 

So under the cover of darkness, she had pushed the basement door open, settling herself onto the highest section of the staircase that still afforded her a view of the television, and began watching what would turn out to be the most terrifying movie of her life.

She sat frozen, glued to the steps as the image of a clown with razor sharp teeth flashed onto the screen, and as a yellow raincoat disappeared down a drain she had let out a scream - the loudest, sharpest scream ever uttered: loud enough that within two minutes their neighbours were banging on the front door, absolutely certain that something sinister had befallen one of the Santiago children.

Two things had resulted from that night - her brothers were banished from all future babysitting duties (from which birthed a grudge that Tony would hold against his sister for _years_ to come), and Amy began experiencing increasingly vivid nightmares. Within weeks, there was a well-worn path between her bedroom and her parents, the solace of Victor and Camila’s arms proving to be the only balm to soothe her pounding heart from the terrors in her mind.

As she grew older, the haunting imagery would change - red balloons floating ominously in the background would turn into tests with red marks of failure on them; hideous monsters with gnashing teeth taking the shape of disappointed superiors and brothers excelling in fields that she could not master. By the time she was nearing the end of high school, the imagery of her senior portrait moving from the piano to the far end of the staircase was enough to keep her awake at night, hands shaking as they gripped the duvet tighter around her, never quite warm enough when the thought of failure struck true fear into her heart.

Living a life based on rules and structure had provided some relief - for if everything had a set procedure, the danger didn’t have a chance to break through. Slowly but surely, the more Amy stuck to the rules, the more the night terrors seemed to fade. And with it, came a life built on order and discipline. 

And then, along came Jake. And suddenly the straight and narrow didn’t seem so appealing. 

There had been a part of her that had expected the nightmares to return when she starting dating him - when the rules began to bend, and the sharp edges of her future plans began to soften. Instead, she slept peacefully: sometimes dreaming of sweeter moments between the two of them, other times simply content to feel his presence next to her. Truth be told, the terrors continued to stay far away until Jake was in Witsec - when the cold and otherwise empty sheets would wrap around her feet, gripping her to the mattress as horrifying images of Jake in endlessly dangerous situations in unknown locations attacked her repeatedly. Towards the end of their separation, pillows that only smelled faintly of him were pulled closer as the hours of sleep grew lesser, and after his return, and her screams would keep them awake, she’d had to explain it all. 

But even as she told him of her fears - even as she described the imagery her mind would play in a loop, Amy found herself feeling less and less afraid of them. And as the weeks wore on, and the confusing period of readjustment that resulted from Jake returning to her life played itself out, the terrors began to fade, and Jake vowed to her that she would never need to worry about them again.

Yet here they were, on the eve of his final court hearing, and Amy could feel the flames of fear begin to flicker again. Because even with the knowledge that Matthew Langdon was safely tucked into a Safe House downtown, resting ahead of his surprise testimony in the morning, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Hawkins’ reign of terror was far from over.

Letting out an exhausted sigh as her breathing finally slows down, Amy flops back down onto the mattress, body turning towards Jake’s as their hands separate. He runs a hand across his face in a half-hearted attempt to wipe away the tiredness, and studies her carefully when he’s done. “You sure you’re okay now, babe?”

Amy looks across at him, at this man that had transitioned from annoying coworker to best friend to boyfriend so seamlessly that she struggles to remember a time when his hand didn’t belong in hers, and she nods.

“I’m so sorry for waking you,” she whispers.

One side of his mouth lifts up into an almost convincing smile. “You didn’t. I was already awake.” She waits, knowing by now that sometimes Jake just needs a little more time to find the right words. Instead, he shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep.” 

She can feel a thousand unsaid words hanging above them.

Her left hand stretches the short distance, resting against his bicep before running along the dip in his arm. “We’re going to prove your innocence, Jake. Tomorrow. This is all going to be over.”

He nods his head slowly, and as her eyes acclimate better to the darkness, she notices the puffiness around his eyes, and realises with a sinking heart that he had been crying. “I just . . .” His breath comes out in a shudder, and she scoots closer until her forehead is resting against his. “I don’t want to lose this.” 

They’d made love earlier that evening, neither of them willing to voice the reason behind their passionate kisses, not ready to acknowledge that this wasn’t the same as all the others - that this might be the last time, for a long time, or maybe ever. And while she’d thrown on his old academy shirt afterwards, because Always Cold Amy was a nickname that she could not shake, their legs had remained bare underneath the blanket, and she wraps hers completely around him now, pulling herself closer until there was nowhere else to go. 

“I know,” she whispers, pulling away slightly so that she can run her thumb along his brow bone, graduating to his forehead to rub away the lines of worry. “But you’re not going to, Jake. I meant what I said in the car. Whatever happens tomorrow. I’ll wait for you.”

Jake shakes his head, wrapping his right arm around her waist. His touch is warm, and always welcome. “It could be 15 years, Ames. Or more. I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m telling you.” His moves his other hand out from under the pillow, seeking hers in return, and not for the first time she imagines a ring adorning his finger. “You’re the love of my life, Jake Peralta. I would wait an eternity for you.” Their fingers intertwine, and she squeezes gently. She knew that even with their best laid plans, there was a good possibility that tomorrow wouldn’t turn out the way they hoped. And if there was anything he needed to know, it was this. “Even if the next time we’re together I’m 75 years old, you’ve got cataracts and my boobs are down to my knees, I would still marry the heck out of you. I will love you _forever_, Jake.”

The notion of forever had been something they had tiptoed around at the beginning of their relationship. While both of them knew (pretty quickly, actually) that what they had together was far greater than anything either had known before, there was still an irrational fear that if one spoke to soon, they would spook the other, and ruin their greatest chance at happiness. 

It had taken four weeks in a prison in Texas, and six months playing pretend in Florida, before forever was the only thing on their mind. 

The change had been subtle, but permanent, and while The Question hadn’t been asked, they both knew what the answer would be. They were, after all, each other’s soulmates. (And the first time he’d whispered that word to her, curled up on the couch with the world on mute around them, her heart had landed somewhere amongst the stars.) 

He blinks, and in the close proximity Amy watches a tear escape, pulling her back to the present. It slides along the edge of his nose uninterrupted, and in a moment Amy realises that no matter what terrifying things might enter her dreams, she could simply banish them with the flutter of her eyelids. But for Jake, all of his worst fears were coming true right in front of him, and no matter how hard he blinked, they didn’t seem to be going away. 

Shuffling impossibly closer, Amy pulls him in for a kiss, the type of kiss that she can only hope conveys how much he means to him - how certain she is that he is the only one for her, and that regardless of whatever happens tomorrow, they will get through it together. Because no matter the problem, the love they have for each other is _always_ going to be the answer. 

“I love you so much, Ames. And … I’m so sorry that I’m putting you through this.” His voice is shaky, the fear and despair evident, and she’s overcome with the need to just hold him close until everything wrong simply melted away. 

“I love you too, Jake. But you don’t need to apologise for this. No path in life is ever smooth, and this is just another bump in our road.” She says it loud, as clearly as she can, in case it becomes a memory he clings to. And then a sly grin crosses her face. “Apologies in advance for the saggy boobs, though. I know how much you’re a fan of them.” She whispers, still in close proximity, and his laughter breaks through the silence. 

“I’m a big fan of _you_, Ames. I love you so much. And I love you even more for making a joke about your boobs right now. You are literally the perfect woman.” His smile is bright, though brief, and his hand rests against the small of her back when he pulls her in for another kiss. 

The worry is still there on his face when he pulls away, and Amy knows that’s to be expected. But the only thing uncertain about their future is when it will begin. They will put on a false bravado in the morning, announce their surprise witness and hope for the best - and ultimately, that is all they can do.

She runs her hand through his hair, sighing contentedly when Jake drops his head to her chest, grip still firm around her waist. It isn’t long before his breathing is slow and deep, a sure-fire sign of him sleeping, and she follows his lead, fingers still curling around his strands. 

He would be gone by tomorrow afternoon, and with him he takes her heart, but even as she cries herself to sleep in their too-large-for-one bed, Amy knows that there could be no nightmares that evening. Her greatest terror, after all, had already come to life. 

And she was going to fight like hell to prove it wrong.

**Author's Note:**

> Oookay, I hope you enjoyed that little quickie! Apologies for the lateness, dear Anon! Feel free to come say hi to me on Tumblr - I'm @amydancepants-peralta. My inbox is always open 😃
> 
> Comments/kudos are always very welcome - and so very, very appreciated ❤️
> 
> Title from Eagle Eye Cherry. 🎶


End file.
